A Brand New Day
by Kyoshi Slickfish
Summary: An imprisoned Rukia tells Hanatarou tales of her experiences in the living world, forever grateful to the person who made the rain stop. IchiRuki LJ-themed drabbles.
1. All the World's a Stage

**Disclaimer: i do not own Bleach. **

**written for the IchiRuki Community on LiveJournal. definitely not doing all of the prompts (as i learned back when i wrote for the UsaMamo drabbles). instead, i'm focusing on connecting all of the prompts i use into sort of a coherent story. it takes place during Rukia's imprisonment during the Soul Society Arc, and she is the storyteller, giving Hanatarou a new story every time he visits her in the cell.**

* * *

you are calm and reposed  
let your beauty unfold  
pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones  
you are so fragile and thin  
standing trial for your sins  
holding onto yourself the best you can  
you are the smell before rain  
you are the blood in my veins

* * *

**Day One **

**all the world's a stage**

An actress.

If I have the chance to stay in the living world, if I am permitted to make Karakura Town my permanent post, I would love to pass myself off as an actress. Even from that first night, I picked up human mannerisms quite easily, if I can say so. I am always able to adapt easily to any and every new situation. That skill is probably what saved me when I lived in Rukongai all of those years with Renji and the guys.

Ah, Renji.

He's supposed to come here and brief me on my legal situation. If I know him as well as I do, he'll probably barge in here without regards to any kind of formalities or presenting himself as the highly-regarded new Lieutenant of the 6th Division, and just yell at me. Maybe that's how I could stand Ichigo all of this time; I'm used to some idiot, testosterone-drivin male trying to impose his will upon me, as if they're trying to match the level of their voices with their stupidity.

But that's the difference between Renji and me; I can sit here, stare at the wall, imagine exactly how he'll stomp in here...but Renji can never guess my next move or how I will react to something. He'll never do it, even if his life depended on it. And Renji is too hesitant, too cautious, too aware of himself to even try.

Maybe that's why I'm sitting here in a cell, and Renji is performing his duties as a righteous Shinigami, no matter how much of a loud-mouth idiot he really can be under those black robes and fancy arm band.

Maybe that's why I'd be such a great actress. I would keep you on your toes, excited to see what would happen next, make you too flustered to even take an ounce of attention away to guess the next scene. No one can ever guess a noble would act so out of line for a human and end up in jail for high treason, let alone guess it could be someone from the Kuchiki household.

Personally, I never thought I would end up on the bad side of Soul Society, but hey, even actresses can surprise themselves. That means you're good, right?

I sigh, the cold air tickling my lungs. Although the Fifth Division cell is much larger than what I've been accustomed to in recent months, I would trade the difference in size to be back in the warmth and familiarity of Ichigo's closet any day. My stomach grumbles for a tiny bite of Yuzu's delicious cooking. My fist longs to take out my frustrations on Kon, but I know of all the things I want, I don't deserve any of them. The image of Ichigo laying in the street, soaked in a concoction of blood and the rain, flashes in my mind. It took all of my will to not start crying -well maybe not _cry_, that kind of needless emotions stopped after Kaien-dono- but it's hitting a sensitive nerve. My hands start to hurt from clenching them so hard, but luckily, a noise catches my attention, and I feel a new presence right outside of my cell. It waits there for a bit instead of approaching me.

"You shouldn't wait for my permission to enter," I say casually, not bothering to turn around from my seat facing the stone wall. "I am the prisoner, and you are the unaccused, after all."

I hear the click of the lock, and the metal door swings open.

_What is this person scared of?_

The reiatsu isn't familiar to me; it feels small, very unremarkable, but at the same time, humble, sincere...and absolutely terrified at the moment. The person shuffles around my cell, and while I try to go back to my usual thoughts of days past, deep soul searching, what movies I would've loved to star in (I think action movies), I am unsuccessful. I hear the other person moving around, their movements echoing throughout my cell, but they don't seem to be stopping anytime soon and they're not addressing me in any way. What's the deal? I turn my head sideways, finally able to look at a small male Shinigami with dark hair and matching dark circles under his eyes. I'm pretty sure I'm not scowling, but as I look him down, he stares back, downright pitiful.

His frightened expression sort of boosts my ego, since someone is actually intimidated by me instead of commenting on my small stature.

_Fucking Ichigo._

The Shinigami opens his mouth to stutter something when a rough presence brawls through the room. Renji is slightly tardy for his cue, but he still manages to appear like I predicted.

"Yo Yamada, get out of here. I want to talk to the prisoner," he grunts, his words coming out more like mush instead of coherent dialog. Of course Renji talks more with his body than words, like any testosterone-driven man. The Sixth Division fuku-taichou grips one of my cell bars with his right hand while coolly leaning against my cell and propping his left hand on his hip, as if flexing his arm in an effort to intimidate me. It never worked, and memories of a toothpick-thin Renji-kun pops into my head, easing my thoughts. "Rukia."

I don't bother to face him right away since the smile hasn't subsided yet. I try to put on my best poker face, using Ichigo as my inspiration. Showtime for this actress. Renji clears his throat again, the deep grumblings rattling the cage of my cell. "How long do you plan on torturing everyone like this? You got some poor messenger from the Fourth shaking in his robes, their chef making delicious food which you don't even touch. You need to take care of yourself Rukia."

"Why? So I can be in top form when they execute me?"

He scoffs. "That's not that I mean."

I shift in my seat, turning enough so I can look at my childhood friend from over my shoulder. I don't hint to him that I'm glad to see what he achieved for himself, but deep down, I am happy. Although I can't say the same for my current situation, I am pretty damn proud of Renji, and I know somewhere, there is a higher power laughing at me because I was never blessed the cards that could've granted me Renji as my older brother instead of the successor of the Kuchiki noble clan. Not that I don't appreciate Nii-sama and all he has done for me, but I think he'd be better off with someone who doesn't have to stand on her tippy-toes so her nose can turn up above everyone else. I suppose me trying to fit into the Kuchiki clan is my greatest work as an actress.

"I'm not torturing myself, I'm just not hungry," I say quietly. I don't mean for my voice to come out so soft, but my thoughts distracted me with simpler days. Lucky for me, Renji is easily agitated. "Abarai-fuku-taichou...dono."

Renji grips the cell bars with both of his hands now, a flush on his face almost matching his red hair. He looks kind of like a sunburned tourist at the moment; instead of the black standards every Shinigami wears, Renji decks himself out in a casual white and orange yukata, and I can't help but wonder what the occasion is. I'm almost jealous that I can't be apart of the apparent festivities, since it must be something big if Renji isn't wearing his robes. To him, Shinigami robes represent the struggles they overcame in their afterlife, not to mention, he thinks he looks more intimidating in black. From my point of view, Renji's flustered expression looks like he's the imprisoned one as he rattles the bars to get my attention.

Whoops, I usually get too preoccupied making fun of him in my mind.

"What's wrong with with me being the fukutaichou? You gotta problem with it?!" he bellows.

"No, of course not, fukutaichou-dono!" I reply in my human-voice. I know it agitated Ichigo to no end when I used it, and Renji is no different, except maybe he's too thick-headed to perceive that I'm making fun of him. But it's always fun to watch it hit Renji like an avalanche barreling over him. "You are the the only appropriate person to take up the reigns as fukutaichou. Your tattooed eyebrows are incredibly intimidating for any new recruit, fukutaichou-dono, so painful to look at. Your muscles are so massive that wearing your badge must be so restricting, fukutaichou-dono. Sixth Division hair is the best of all, fukutaichou-dono!"

Renji narrows his eyes at me. "Now you're just making fun of me."

About time.

I'm not sure if I say that aloud, but Renji is rattling my cell like an earthquake. "I'll kill you! Get out of there, and I'll do it myself right NOW!"

"But Abarai-fukutaichou, I haven't eaten and my body is feeling fatigued. It wouldn't be fair."

Renji grumbles more incomprehensible things I'm pretty sure had more cussing than actual words, and I turn completely away from him to hide my smile, which makes him raise his voice and beat against the metal bars harder. But I know he has a soft spot for me.

"Renji," I say quiet enough that he has to stop the ruckus. "Do you think I'm really going to be executed?"

Not because it is _my _life on the line, I do think the pending punishment is a bit excessive. I am, after all, only an actress. A noble. But who am I kidding?

I hear a deep grunt from my friend. He's still flustered. "OF COURSE you are, dumb-ass! They'd probably chop your ass up right in that cell if they were here in my place."

Whoops, he's still mad. There's no talking to him at the moment. "Yes...you probably are right."

"Come on Kuchiki, it was a joke! A JOKE, get it?!"

"For a fukutaichou, you sure don't know what's going on," I throw at him over my shoulder. Renji's getting my snootiest, most noble-like expression I can muster.

Where Ichigo hates my acting voice, Renji hates my facial expressions. A girl never wins with these two. He resumes rattling my cell. "Shut up! I know what's going on. Kuchiki-taichou is submitting his report as we speak." I don't bother to look at him anymore, so I hear Renji prop himself up against the bars. His voice instantly becomes distant. "He's your big brother, Rukia. There's no way he's going to stand by and let you die."

I can't stifle my snort at his comment. There are things I know, trivial, unimportant skills like acting and provoking best friends, and there are things I _know_. Renji may be slow at detecting my true intentions when I put on my acting skills, but Kuchiki Byakuya certainly does not dabble in the frivolous like I do, the imposter Kuchiki. The icy cold he naturally emits is not an act. The blank, yet piercing stare he uses to analyze you when you're face to face is not an act. His commitment to upholding the prestige of a noble clan is definitely not an act.

My ability to act is the epitome of what I've been trying to do all my life: just trying to get by.

I turn just a little, and I can't help but be surprised when my eyes meet Renji's. I may be imagining it, but he truly looks concerned for me.

"It's been forty years since the Kuchiki clan adopted me." I forgo a little fukutaichou jab as soon as the thought crosses my mind. I'm trying to act serious here. "And never once has he truly looked at me."

I look away, and it becomes clear to me that no matter how much time in the living world I spent refining my acting skills, they can't mask my inner turmoil. Imprisonment isn't my current problem. I realize I've been trying to mask these feelings for years, hell, _decades_. And I fail every time.

But what is that stupid cliche the humans use all the time? Something about getting back up on your high horse after falling...

Maybe as my last act as a Kuchiki, I'll repay the clan for how they accepted me by keeping my dignity, even if they go through with executing me. My head suddenly becomes heavy with thought, and it dips low so now all I gaze at is my lap. I suppose Renji is at the same kind of loss as I am, for now he's suspiciously quiet, but I don't bother to look at him again. I have a mission now. It will be my greatest and most difficult undertaking, to gather all of my resolve and smile up until the very end of my life-long acting career.


	2. My Heart in a Box

**Day Two**

**my heart in a box**

Maybe I should eat something. Are hallucinations a side-effect of hunger? Because I swear that I'm seeing Nii-sama's face, made up of the lines and cracks in the cement wall, smiling down at me from the right corner of my cell. Kuchiki Byakuya smiling; if that isn't an impossible sight or scary hallucination, then I don't know what else is. My stomach complains very audibly, reminding me that I haven't eaten since they brought me back to Soul Society. Even some barely cooked ramen from Ichigo sounds tasty right now.

Ichigo.

That idiot, he better be okay. The image of him bleeding to death on a random Karakura street flashes in my mind, and my heart sinks lower into my chest. My remorse for that condition is matched by my anger at him. I told him not to follow me! If he is too stubborn to read, then the idiot is too stubborn to die. That notion, I realize, gives me little comfort when I think of how much I've twisted our fates, but I am here, in my cell, gladly paying the price for my tresspassings. I deserve to starve to death.

A noise at the front of my cell snaps me out of my thoughts. Honing in on the presence, I recognize its insignificance from yesterday, but I still don't pay it any attention. That kid is still scared of me, and he's not even in the cell yet. I hear him fiddle with keys before they crash to the floor. He picks them up again, and once again, I hear the tantalizing click of my cell opening. I don't know why he is so scared of me, but if I take advantage of the situation, I could overpower him and run away again.

The image of the wall Byakuya hovers over me. This time, he's frowning, and I decide to sit still in my chair, although a bit more rigid when I hear the footsteps nearing me.

For the third day in a row, the Shinigami dutifully places a large bowl of noodles, a plate with bread, chopsticks, and a tall glass of water on the floor. Prisoners are not allowed to have utensils of any kind while incarcerated, in case they use them as weapons, but the higher-ups must suppose that a noble couldn't possibly ram a chopstick into someone's eyeball. Forget survival, that is too uncouth of a fighting style.

"Uhm...Rukia-sama?"

The Shinigami's voice is as small as his stature. My head whips in his direction when I hear him speak, or rather, whisper.

"What did you call me?"

"I said, uhm...K-Kuchiki s-ss-ssama?" he repeats. His eyes grow wide, taking over his small face, and I realize that this Fourth Division member is used to the abuse from the Eleventh. Clearly, he's never met anyone from Thirteenth Squad, let alone a noble.

"You should know how to address someone correctly when you speak to them," I say flatly. He nods obediently, offering me the pair of chopsticks so I may start eating. I ignore the gesture. "What is your name, Shinigami?"

"Y-yamada Hanatarou, Kuchiki-sama." His arm still lingers outstretched towards me.

"Well, Yamada-san, don't think you've gone unnoticed in my cell. I know you've been assigned here, and it baffles me as to why you don't know how to address me." Hanatarou opens his mouth to speak again, but I wave my hand to signal that I'm not done speaking. He bows in apology. I somewhat regret my tone with him, but he just so happened to cross my biggest pet peeve, and I just met the kid. At least I'm not kicking him in the butt, like the way Ichigo greeted me in his bedroom two months ago. "If I am to see you in my cell for the rest of my numbered days, then I expect you to address me as 'Rukia'...and nothing more."

"Excuse me?"

I lean forward, placing a firm hand on Hanatarou's shoulder. He finally raises himself up from his respectful gesture. "I didn't stutter, did I?" I say, a small smile softening my face.

Surprisingly, Hanatarou doubles over again, this time dipping his head lower. "No, Kuchiki-sama!"

A sigh escapes my lips, and I release the poor Shinigami. He's making me more uncomfortable by the second, and I try to lighten the mood. "So what did you bring me to eat today, Yamada-san?"

Hanatarou immediately looks up at me before scrambling to present me with the food items. "Beef ramen, but they put some vegetables in because Kuchiki-sama hasn't been eating lately."

I nod, thankful for his efforts, but place the rather hot bowl next to my feet before raising the glass to my mouth. The moment the cool liquid hits my lips, I realize I am desperately thirsty. I eye him over my tilted glass. "Yamada-san, what did I tell you? 'Rukia' will be just fine, thank you."

He looks like I offended him, and Hanatarou's eyes return to that saucer-like state. "But Kuckiki-sama..."

"Please," I interrupt him, but my voice remains soft. "Don't address me as sama."

"Well then, Ru-ru-" It's like Hanatarou is talking for the first time. He probably half-expects a Kuchiki nobleman to jump out of the shadows and execute him if he refers to me so informal and uncouth. "I'll have to tell you then, Rukia...my name is Hanatarou."

He half looks at me like I'm going to berate him again, but I smile fully instead. My cheeks welcome the movement in those muscles that have gone unused in the recent days of my imprisonment. I take another swig of water. It's delicious, and it reminds me of a fond memory. Hanatarou looks too green to have traveled to the living world, and if this young Shinigami is going to be comfortable around me, then I have to nurture this newfound companionship.

"Hanatarou...have you ever heard of a juice box?"

* * *

Rukia shifted heavily in her gigai. After three days or so in the custom-made body, she still wasn't used to the weight and suffocation of a body. She certainly wasn't too keen on the way she sweat in it, especially up on the uncovered school roof during lunchtime. Ichigo had been actually tolerable since she accidentally passed on all of her Shinigami powers; after she beat him for complaining over her confiscating his bedroom closet for temporary housing and threatening his life if he blew her cover as a fellow high school student, he tried to help her adjust to living in the living world. He even packed her a lunch for school today, which consisted of some superb concoction of the mushing together of thick, spreadable peanuts and grape preserves; apples, a rare fruit in Soul Society, and a cardboard box with an apple logo on it. For some reason lost on her, Ichigo was under the assumption that Shinigami love apples.

Ichigo loved to fight, Rukia was sure of it. It made perfect sense that he settled into the role of Shinigami, even after a few days since the responsibility was thrust upon him. She lifted the strange box so it was eye-level, and Rukia caught sight of Ichigo's bright orange hair beyond the strange item. Some guys yelled at him, but Rukia wasn't paying attention. She didn't understand the packaging of the item; weren't outer wrappers meant to open? Her fingers pried at one of the corners, but glue held the folded-over cardboard flap down firmly.

_What's inside this damn thing?_

Rukia shook the small package; upon hearing the slushing sound and feeling of liquid moving rapidly within, and adding the image on the front panel, she deducted the box contained apple juice.

"Yo Kurosaki, when are you going to dye your hair and stop copying me?" a rather large student yelled at her friend. He hurled insult after insult, trying to get a rise out of the scowling Ichigo.

Something stuck to the back of the apple juice box. Rukia ran her thumb across the thin item, and it popped off of the box unexpectedly. She tried to put it back, but the plastic tube refused to stick to the box again. As least it didn't seem to damage the package, her precious apple juice still trapped within. Perhaps the tube was a tool to open the box? Rukia prodded the side flap with the item, but she only managed to damage the end she attacked with.

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest to show he wasn't remotely intimidated by this punk Ooshima's brass knuckles. He won several fights against him before, and if he remembered correctly, Ooshima won none. Ichigo wondered why he even bothered to pick fights with his clear superior.

Pursing her lips together, Rukia led an all-out assault against the tiny item. She bit the corners, hurting her gigai teeth in the process. She scratched at all facets of the box, getting colored bits of paper stuck under her fingernails. She pushed at different areas of the box, hoping to discover a secret button that opened the box, but it only dented under the frustrated pressure. The apple juice angered Rukia to the point that she was about to throw the box on the ground to stomp on it. That method always worked with Ichigo, when she needed him to do something according to her will. Yes, somehow a mere human nourishment item humbled this Shinigami enough that she needed back-up.

"Ichigo," she said hurriedly. Rukia looked up, but a large mass passed in front of her.

The next thing she heard was the shrill scream of the once-present Ooshima, who now flew through the air. However he landed didn't concern Rukia in the least; at the moment, she wanted to learn the secret of the juice box. Running up to the teenager, Rukia heard Ichigo yell at Sado, somewhat reminiscent of how she yells at him. When she neared the pair, Rukia jumped directly in between the two, shoving the box up in Ichigo's face. "Hey Stupid, how do you drink this?" she asked eagerly.

He frowned at her, grabbing the juice box out of her hand. "You should watch who you're calling stupid when you're the one who's asking the questions," Ichigo replied flatly. He examined the box. "Where is the straw?"

"Now who's asking questions?" she said with a smug look on her face.

Ichigo sighed, amazed at how fast he found himself in fights on a daily basis, especially with a sarcastic Shinigami following him around now. Noticing the small object in Rukia's other hand, he grabbed the straw, and upon seeing the damage inflicted on the bottom, he flipped the straw around to smash the other end through a tiny circle of foil. "Wow! I can do your magic hocus-pocus too...but instead of binding innocent humans and drawing on their faces, I give you nourishment!" Ichigo flashed a crooked smile, conveying a sense of amusement in his tone.

Taking the juice box, Rukia sipped the liquid inside. Somehow, it was the tastiest drink she ever consumed in her century and a half years of existence. It must have been her gigai acting up, but while she drank, she felt an uncomfortable heat rise on her cheeks, despite the cool liquid she gulped down. Ichigo's eyes never stopped watching her, despite the uproar over Sado's mysterious bandages coming from his friends. Rukia concentrated on mastering the art of drinkng through the small tube called a straw, and just when she felt like she got the correct proportion of air intake versus the desirable amount of juice, a most horrifying sound erupted from her mouth.

_Sluurrrrrp!_

Rukia nearly choked from the influx of air, sudden absence of liquid, and mortification of such a, abrasive cacophony. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling the incinerating of her cheeks against her palm. Ichigo only laughed at her before moving over to talk to his friends. He didn't tease her, and Ichigo's reaction seemed just as puzzling as the world he lived in. Rukia glared at the inanimate object, ready to drink from another juice box, as if punishing a brother box in revenge for her current embarrassment. Her violet eyes flashed at Ichigo.

He needed to show her more of the conveniences of his world, because in that instant, Rukia found a pulling curiosity in a box, and she didn't know if she could survive another one of Ichigo's cocky smiles.

* * *

**A/N:** **anyone get the Death Note reference? haha. i'm trying my best to turn this into a daily update. hope you enjoy!**


	3. Art Supplies

**Day Three**

**art supplies**

Sometimes my butt can't handle sitting in the stiff wooden chair, so I alternate sitting facing the back wall with laying down against the concrete floor. The cold of the cell floor permeates through the thin fabric of my robe, but I welcome the sensations. They remind me that I'm still alive, and not just a hollow shell of a human. Somewhere I learned that sleeping on flat surfaces is good for your back, so I suppose my back will be able to withstand when I'm hoisted up before execution by the Soukyoku.

What a thought.

I inhale for a long time, my back pressing hard against the floor as it expands. Rogue Shinigami pass by my cell at sporadic times, but none pay me any attention, which is good. All the attention I ever received in Soul Society never was positive anyway. My current quiet is interrupted by tiny footsteps and the unmistakable laughter of a child without a care in the world. Normally, it sounds like an innocent picture, but a commanding officer of the Gotei 13 Squads needs to have a sense of dignity, or at least control, about them.

If it wasn't for her Lieutenant Badge wrapped firmly against her arm, Kusajishi Yachiru looks like a child Shinigami at play when she runs around Seireitei eating candy and giggling at the top of her lungs. She rushes past my cell, and I can't help but tilt my head to see three full-grown Shinigami chasing her, begging their fukutaichou to stop.

"Kusajishi-fukutaichou! Please, don't spoil your appetite before dinner!"

Yachiru runs past my cell again, this time heading in the opposite direction. Sure enough, her subordinates follow her.

"Fukutaichou, there is no running in the halls. You could hurt yourself!"

There is a loud crash and men yelling, adding to the noise, but a high-pitched laughter prevails above the ruckus. Yachiru skips past my cell, followed by a cloud of dust and a few metal trays rolling along the floor behind her. She stops when she sees I'm looking at her, and a smile lights her face. Her tiny hands clutch at the metal bars. "Hey Shorty! Whatcha doing in there?" asks Yachiru.

The difference in age clearly shows itself when Yachiru gives nicknames. She'll just call it like she sees it.

I get on my feet and walk over to where she's standing, but despite the fact that I'm looking down at her, I know the Eleventh's Lieutenant will never change my personalized nickname. "I was just taking a nap," I reply, somehow rather lightheartedly.

"So even oldies need naps too, I see. I already had mine." Yachiru's cheery personality makes it nearly impossible to get frustrated by what she says. But like a true woman, her attitudes can change in a flash. She puts her hands on her tiny hips and pouts up at me. "I'm bored, and my friends had an accident. Will you help me find candy?"

I scratch my head. "Ah, Kusajishi-fukutaichou, just one problem...I'm a prisoner here."

"So?" she pouted. I jump, because somehow, Yachiru has popped up behind me. Inside my cell. "Why did they put you in time-out, Shorty?"

There's no way Yachiru could understand what I'm going through. I don't even understand what I'm going through, how I even got here, and why I'm so eerily calm about my fate. "I didn't follow the rules, so I was put in time-out."

Yachiru plopped on the ground, right in the place where I rested earlier. Her feet danced with energy, even though their owner looked intent on hearing my story. "There was one time I sneaked into Pretty Lady Re-chan's kitchen stock. I heard she had the best candy in there, but it was right before dinner, and Maki-Maki told me not to ruin my appetite. But it was grossness, and I needed to sneak into Re-chan's office while she was off healing people, so I ate a lot of her sweets when I found them."

"So that's when Nii-sama found you passed out with chocolate all over your face." I can't help but smile when I remember the memory of seeing Yachiru cradled in Nii-sama's arms one night on my way to the dining hall.

The pink-haired wonder just shrugs. "Bya-kun is really sweet but he hates it when I tell people that. Anyway, the kitchen blew up that night, so no one got to eat...but at least I was happy with my candy. And Pretty Lady didn't even get mad when she found out." Yachiru goes on to stand on the lone chair in my cell, jumping on it like a playground.

"I guess it was good you did what you wanted after all."

"Yup! So whatever you did, you'll probably get out of your punishment cause I know you're really good Shorty!"

I feign a smile at her, but I can't help the sigh that escapes my lips as well. If only things could be seen through Yachiru's eyes, they would be so simple. Moving over to the bars which caged me, I wrap my hands around them, feeling how solid and cold they are for the first time. I don't sense any other Shinigami nearby, and when I turn back to look at Yachiru, she's missing from my cell.

"What are you looking for?" she asks, this time, right in front of me and now on the other side of the bars.

She startles me, but I recover. "Kusajishi-fukutaichou, if you're still bored, you can go down the hall to where the Fifth Division offices process intakes, and my backpack should be in there. If you go through it, there is a pack of colored pencils you can have. I brought them here from the living world."

"Oooo!" Yachiru giggled while she ran off, leaving me alone once more. I can't help the sadness that comes when I smile at her retreating form. At least someone will be able to use my art supplies now that I'm incarcerated here in Soul Society.

* * *

"Hmm," Rukia muttered while she slouched against the back wall of Ichigo's closet. She tapped a Number 2 pencil against her lip while she thought, feeling the rough indentations her teeth inflicted in the wood from all the times she nibbled on the eraser end. The Shinigami realized she picked up several different habits since taking up residency in the living world, most of them bad, but at least now Rukia had the time to concentrate on one of her long-time hobbies: drawing. She worked diligently on her current homework assignment, or at least Rukia would, if she could think of a good response for her high school teacher.

Illustrate the Future You.

The assignment seemed easy enough when the sensei wrote the prompt up on the board, but for some reason, Rukia found difficulty with her answer. It wasn't that she didn't know how to draw, they weren't being graded on the quality of your illustrations, but she felt the heaviness of the assignment when she thought of how insignificant her answer would be. Not very many people knew that Rukia already had 150 years of living under her _koshi himo_, and the term "future" for a Soul Society dweller meant thinking a dozen more centuries ahead.

"It'd be nice to be a seated officer or learn all of my zanpakuto's releases," sighed Rukia. She put her pencil on the paper and drew a little bunny wielding a sword among other scary-looking bunnies meant to resemble Hollows at the mercy of her sword. The scene looked like a doodle, but moreso, something she knew was unacceptable for her human teacher. Oh, not to mention, those are things completely suspect for a high school student to mention in her homework assignment.

"Maybe in my next lifetime, I can master bankai," she muttered. Rukia drew a stiff rabbit with a stern expression on his face. She thought about Byakuya, and how he was married. Adjusting her body so her belly sprawled across the matt inside the closet, Rukia drew another female rabbit with two little bunnies playing nearby. She stuck her tongue out at the paper, thinking that although this was probably the kind of submission the sensei would expect from an average student, Rukia knew she wasn't an average student. The notion of marriage crossed her mind once, a long time ago when she saw how happy Kaien-dono and Miyaki looked together, and the thought of reproducing? Absolutely out of the question. In fact, Rukia couldn't think of a single male who she would willingly use her body to harbor his offspring for.

Rukia is even more shocked when Kurosaki Ichigo popps into her head.

Her fingers wrinkle the edges of her paper where they held it. _"Why did I think of that idiot?!" _she berated herself. Rukia looked at the Byakuya-bunny, noting how its frown reminded her of Ichigo's tough-guy look. Maybe she wasn't as disturbed as she first thought, and Rukia took in a deep breath, inhaling Ichigo's scent lingering in his clothes hanging above her.

She jumped when the closet door swung open, and the high schooler stood blocking the influx of light. He wasn't quite scowling, but Ichigo didn't smile when he tossed an object at Rukia. "Here," he said flatly.

Looking down, Rukia grabbed the colorful box, which contained a sort of high-tech, self-sharpening colored pencils. Instead of being made like a regular wooden pencil, these had a plastic body which you twisted to raise the color reservoir in order to use it.

"Wow," gaped Rukia as she experimented with one pencil. She looked at Ichigo, who watched her quietly. "Are these for me?"

He shrugged. "Sure, if you want them. They were Karin's..."

"Your sister's? I can't take these."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "You didn't have a problem taking Yuzu's pajamas. Besides, it's okay. Karin got more into soccer and sports, so she never used this artsy stuff. I thought you'd want to use them."

There was no mistaking the little pink tinge on his cheeks, and Rukia grinned up at him. "Aww...you were thinking of me?"

"No!" Ichigo snapped, the lines in his frown deepening. He threw his head over his shoulder so he didn't have to look at her. "Well maybe in the sense that I didn't want you to fail our assignment, and you're always drawing anyway...ah forget it! And you should sit up properly, like a girl!"

He huffed once more before shutting the closet door harshly. Ichigo threw himself on his bed, burying his face in a pillow. The image of Rukia occupying his closet wasn't a problem, but the way her uniform skirt hiked up around her thighs as she lay on her stomach was. For someone so short, Rukia had a lot of legs, and Ichigo became to aware of this fact that danced around in his brain. With a groan, he got up and stomped downstairs, feeling rather uncomfortable in the same vicinity of the Shinigami.

Rukia heard the bedroom door slam, and she poked her head out of the closet to see the room empty. Slightly confused, she eased herself back in the small, but comfortable area and spread out her new toys. She felt the inspiration surge through her. The homework assignment could wait.

Several hours later, Ichigo calmly opened the door to his bedroom. It was suspiciously quiet, but tiny rustling in a certain area let him know all was well in the eldest Kurosaki child's dwelling. He opened the window, letting the cool breeze float through his room before flopping down on his bed. Something colorful sitting on his desk next to him caught Ichigo's eye.

It was a drawing.

_"Great, more stupid bunnies,"_ Ichigo thought as he reached out for the paper. It had a fold in the middle, but the other side of the card was pushed back behind the front panel, instead of the item opening up to the reader. _"She couldn't even fold it right."_

Rukia scribbled something at the top: **The Future.**

Instead of her usual rabbits, Rukia drew a self-portrait comprised of a stick figure in Shinigami robes, except there was another layer consisting of a white coat, with big lavender eyes and a head full of onyx hair. She held a white sword with a long ribbon attached to the end, something Ichigo figured Rukia must have embellished on her zanpakuto, just as she added to her Shinigami robes. Ichigo squinted to read the symbol on the white coat; it said Thirteenth Captain. He had no idea what that meant, but before he could ponder it further, Ichigo noticed the drawing on the other side of the fold, which was meant to complete the initial picture of Rukia.

**The Future Us.**

Ichigo finished reading the complete title, and under the last word, there was another stick figure also clad in Shinigami robes, but its head was ablaze with bright orange hair. Facing Rukia, a portrait of Ichigo portrayed him with his large zanpakuto pointing straight ahead, complete with a frown on his face. He couldn't help the amused grin that accompanied the small snort that escaped his lips while he gazed down at the picture. Rukia must have worked on it while he sulked downstairs, and although he looked at the closet in case she peeked at him from her recluse, Ichigo didn't sense that the artist was even awake. He put the picture back on his desk and settled onto his bed, tucking his hands under his head.

Ichigo figured he did a good thing by giving Rukia the colored pencils.


	4. Wishing on Dying Stars

**thanks for all of the encouragement, reviews, and alerts! i meant to label each chapter as a "day", to track how long Rukia has been in prison. enjoy!**

* * *

**Day Four**

**wishing on dying stars**

I stretch my arms above my head once I feel the numbness starting to hurt. I'm a bit groggy as I wake up from my nap; somehow, after breakfast, I fell asleep while I watched the blank ceiling with my hands under my head. It's a comfortable position, but I never manage to hold it for very long because my hands start to tingle under the pressure of my head and the lack of circulation. Luckily, it's a good time to wake up because I hear clamoring coming from down the hall, and suddenly, I'm aware of the scrubbing noise outside my cell. I tilt my head to the side to see a familiar soul on his knees, scrubbing away bright little doodles on the wall. As my eyes adjust to the light, I see that the new Fifth Division wall mural across that extended along the length of what I could see from within my cell to probably each ends of the hall, from the sounds of the commands being bellowed from random voices.

I stretch a bit more, my body a bit stiff from sleeping on the hard floor, but it does feel invigorated. I prop my back against the far wall in my cell, my eyes never leaving the crouched figure in front of me. "Hanatarou, what's going on?"

The small Shinigami jumps up a bit, but realizes that I'm not dead to the world anymore. "Good afternoon, Rukia! I hope you slept well."

"I did, thank you. What are you doing?"

Hanatarou frowns a little. It reminds me of Ichigo, but Hanatarou's frown is more naturally melancholy. To me, he looks like he needs more sleep than I do. "Apparently Kusajishi-fukutaichou found, or someone gave her, a pack of crayons and decided to take it out on numerous Gotei Division walls. Hinamori-fukutaichou is going nuts, but Aizen-taichou seems to be taking it in stride. Thanks to Kurotsuchi-taichou's security system, she wasn't able to touch any of Twelfth Division and apprehended there, but other divisions weren't so lucky."

I cringe a bit, but I try to hide my reaction. I don't want any more charges added onto my record, although I don't think it would affect my sentence much. I'm still going to die. "I'm sorry you have to clean it up, although...I thought Academy students are assigned clean-up duties?"

He shrugs before dipping his sponge into the bucket. "They are...but you should see what she did to Kuchiki-taichou's offce."

The stakes are high now. I pray that Yachiru doesn't tell anyone where she got the colored pencils from, but you never know what happens with her. I realize there are few times that I've ever prayed to some higher entity for something, this very instance is one of them. I guess I'm more of a "do" person, not someone who sits and waits for things to work themselves out, but in my situation now, all I can do is wait, no matter how pointless it is to hope for something better.

* * *

"Your form is getting better."

"There was nothing wrong with it to begin with," Ichigo snorted. He rested his zanpakuto over his shoulders with a tell-tale smirk on his face. "I get the job done, don't I?"

Rukia meant to give him a compliment, not to start an argument. The duo had just disposed of a pair of hollows and stood in an empty field at the local park where they had materialized. After watching him purify hollows for a few days now, she decided that the high schooler was a natural, and if a Soul Society dweller, he probably would pass the entrance exam for the Academy. Tonight, he managed his mission without a single scratch and only suffered a bout of tousled hair.

"There's a difference between getting a job done, and doing a job well, idiot," replied Rukia. To make her point the last one, she spun on her heels to head back to the house. She walked with her arms crossed over her chest, the night time chilling her arms.

"_Horrible gigai," _she thought with annoyance. _"So sensitive to this horrible world."_

Rukia tilted her head to gaze up at the moon. Tonight, presented itself in its crescent shape, but clouds blocked much of its light, as well as the twinkle of the few stars dotting the sky. In Karakura, the sky looked nothing like what she was used to in Soul Society, where every night, bright stars bejeweled the velvet sky, and they never seemed to have bad weather. She was beginning to feel the pangs of homesickness, topped off with the thought that she might never be able to return to Soul Society. Rukia felt strange as a human.

"Oi, Rukia! I'm talking to you!"

Ichigo called out to her, snapping her out of her thoughts. She stopped, realizing she had stomped off quite a bit from him, and Ichigo caught up to where she stood, her face turned up to the Heavens. "I want to go home," she said flatly. "To Soul Society."

Her unusually snappy response took him, but only for a second. Sensing that Rukia was more angry than sarcastic, Ichigo just stood next to her, joining in with her star gazing. A star darted across the sky. "There. You can make a wish and ask to go home," he said.

"Why would I do such a ridiculous thing?"

"Don't you know that when you see a shooting star, you make a wish on it, and it'll come true?" Ichigo saw the funny look Rukia shot at him in the corner of his eyes, so he grabbed the back of his neck to rub an imaginary knot out of it. "Or some stupid stuff like that. Yuzu does it every time she sees one."

Rukia thought she imagined it, but she could almost swear that Ichigo was trying to comfort her. She giggled the effort. "How could that possibly work anyway? Shooting stars aren't even stars, they're meteors."

Ichigo hit her in the arm. "I don't know, it's a comfort thing, to make you feel better. You can just stand there and mope if you want." Rukia hit him back once, but reeled her other fist back to hit him again. When she extended herself, Ichigo caught her fist in the air, lowering it forcefully. He motioned back to the sky. "Then wish on a regular star. And stop hitting me."

The steely glare from Ichigo calmed Rukia down. Maybe, possibly, in the smallest minuscule of hope, she was doing a bit of right through him. She empowered him so Ichigo could protect his family, granting him what he always strived for. She could forgive herself for the criminal offense, and for the moment, she could forget about the looming punishment from Soul Society, which she expected to one day come raining down on her like a meteor shower.

Rukia picked the brightest star she could, which wasn't so hard in the cloudy sky, but she couldn't muster enough amusement to cast a wish upon it. She crossed her arms in a pout. "I feel stupid."

"You look stupid."

Rukia swatted at him, but Ichigo jumped out of the way. He grinned at her from across the distance. "You look like a kid, why can't you act like one?" Her expression didn't soften, so Ichigo just kept smirking at her. He had better things to do than get dragged down by her pissy mood. "What's wrong Shortness?

"It's stupid to wish on a dead star."

Ichigo couldn't believe her. She wasn't bothered by the ludicrousness of some kid's tale, or the impossibility of fate bending through a wish, Rukia was bothered by something else all together. "What are you whining about now?"

"Come on Ichigo, these stars are presumably dead."

"...Dead?" Ichigo put his hand on her forehead to check for a fever.

"Yeah. Stars are so far away from Earth that by the time their light reaches here, the original source probably burned out, so what you're really seeing is what it looked like some time in the past. I can't believe humans would want to wish on a dead star."

"Che," Ichigo snorted. He frowned down at her. "What a pessimistic way to look at things."

"And since when have you been the optimist?"

He shrugged. "Come on Rukia, wishing on a star doesn't mean you're actually _wishing_ on a star. It's just a way to remind yourself of your hopes and dreams, so you can look for the better things in this shitty life."

Rukia finally cracked a smile. "That sounds more like you, Stupid."

"Yeah, well...it's better than telling Yuzu that the star she just wished on is really dead." He motioned with his head, and they headed off to find Ichigo's discarded body before heading home. Without much more conversation, Ichigo sneaked into his house, stealthily avoiding his dad, and met Rukia, who was already waiting for him in his room. He stiffened a bit when he saw her sitting casually on his bed, her knees tucked up to her chin, but Ichigo just closed the door behind him and sat at his desk.

"Ichigo," Rukia said quietly, her face still watching the twinkling diamonds. "What if I'm really just an image of myself projected from the past, since I'm already dead?"

Ichigo's eyebrows crush against themselves so hard that he almost got an instantaneous headache. He wanted to yell at Rukia, but she had a smirk on her face, which was now turned towards him. Somehow, her eyes had a mischievous sparkle that hit him like a meteor to the head, and with a revelation as big as some moving space rock, Ichigo thought she looked cute. His face steamed red, and he mumbled something along the lines of "I'm taking a shower". As clueless, temperamental, and supernatural Rukia was, tonight, with her surfacing self-doubt and onslaught of questions, she seemed quite human. Without another word, Ichigo slipped out of the room with Rukia's eyes watching his every movement.

Now alone, Rukia relaxed a bit more on the bed. With every movement on his soft comforter, she could smell Ichigo's scent wafting from the sheets, and a blush crept up to her cheeks. She studied the sky, and picking the biggest, brightest star she could find, Rukia took in a deep breath while closing her eyes. Ichigo's musky essence fills her nostrils and her brain, and Rukia wishes for the only thing that manages to formulate in her brain.

"I wish for Ichigo-baka's hopes and dreams...so he can do great things with his life."


	5. Strawberries

**wow! i'm really feel blessed to have such wonderful feedback for this series. although i feel like a butthead for neglecting other works (homg NTLG, i haz sorries!!), it's still coming along slow when all of these other ideas just pop into my head. i KNOW i said i wanted to make these daily, but it's crunch time for me because i'm heading back to school next week, and i've been busier than expected. gomen! back to being a poor college kid. thanks for the reviews and alerts...please let me know if you see typos because writing in 2 tenses is getting me mixed up. i'm going to ask a Beta to help me out because i'm bad with revising.**

**SUPER-thanks to idnh-azuresky for your kick-ass reviews! uhm, i'm getting nervous posting because i seriously don't want to disappoint you. (sheepish grin)**

* * *

**Day Five**

**strawberries**

"Ohayou Rukia!" Hanatarou greets happily as he walks up to my cell, a wide tray containing food in hand. He has a big smile spread across his face, but when a trio of Fifth Division Shinigami come walking down the hall past him, Hanatarou hides his face and his smile mysteriously disappears. Looking through the corner of his eye and sensing that we're alone again, Hanatarou once again grins at me, but I'm too weary to play games today. I had another restless night, dreaming about days past, thinking of Ichigo and whether he's okay now, and dreading the immediate future. Something about how Hanatarou presents himself as a seated member of the Gotei 13 bothers me. He's not in my position, not a prisoner at the mercy of my prosecutors; he has nothing to be ashamed about.

"I bring you breakfast," he says in a cheery voice.

I smile in politeness, but my expression stays serious. "I haven't seen you in a day, Hanatarou. How have you been?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Concerned," I reply flatly. I focus more on my tea, as I bring the tiny cup to my lips. Something tells me that Hanatarou goes through the Fouth Division's pantry on his own, just on my behalf. The tea is delicious. Hanatarou opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "And not about my sentence. I can care less about what they're going to do to me."

He frowns. "Rukia, how can you me so callous with your life? I'd be terrified if I were you."

"Something tells me you're constantly scared of things regardless of your situation." Hanatarou looks a bit hurt, but if he expects to carry himself as a proper seated officer in the Gotei 13, then I can't spare him sympathy. I sip my tea, keeping my eyes on him. "Hanatarou, why were you so scared of those Shinigami?"

The guilt is clearly plastered on his face. "I wasn't scared," he replies defensively. My expression doesn't change, and he sighs heavily. "I'm just a cautious person."

"Why? You have no reason to be scared of anything or anyone. You're a seated officer!" I exclaim. My eyes lower back into my tea cup. He's not the only one who has something to be ashamed of. "I never achieved a seated position in my time."

There is silence, and I see Hanatarou's eyes are wide open with shock at my revelation. For starters, he's not very good at hiding his emotions, but his genuine concern makes me feel a bit better about myself. Perhaps I wasn't too foolish to believe that I could achieve rank after the Academy. I smile at him. "So what are you cautious about?"

He shrugs as nonchalantly he can muster. "You know how the Eleventh Division can be. They just fight, and they don't care with who."

"The _my zanpakuto is bigger than yours_ complex," I nod in agreement.

"I'm just a Fourth Division guy. I'm a healer, not a fighter," finishes Hanatarou. By this time, I realize that he is sitting at my feet with the food tray balanced firmly on his lap. He looks at me like I have all the answers in the world, but if only he knew, Kuchiki Rukia can only offer an ear to listen. I think Ichigo's sense of justice rubbed off on me; I feel the anger rising in my cheeks when I think of how stupidly macho Eleventh Division can be, and like Ichigo, I feel compelled to find the guys who would dare pick on a comrade. Unfortunately, I'm stuck behind bars, and I only have two feet while there are dozens of punk Shinigami in who probably deserve a kick in the ass.

"Hanatarou, it's not a bad thing to stand up for yourself," I reply. I reach for the sandwich he brought me, taking a bite. Like I expect, the food is delicious. "Nii-sama always said that even if you don't have anything, you should always have respect."

"Hey, I have respect! Maybe not from Eleventh Division guys, but I'll serve under Unohana-taichou forever. She's the best!" he says happily. I get jealous of Hanatarou, who found and knows his calling in Soul Society, but I identify with him more. I know exactly what it's like to have outsiders judge you when they don't even know who you are. Hanatarou shifts in his seat on the floor, finally placing the tray down on the ground. His wide smile and complete disregard of our serious conversation tells me that he has something he's been bursting to tell me. "Besides, I got lots of people in Twelfth Division excited for this new idea you inspired, Rukia!"

He beams at me.

_What the hell is he talking about?_

And it's clear he can see my confusion. Hanatarou nods confidently. "When you told me the story about the juice box! I kept thinking about what you told me while I did the rest of my chores that day. I thought, _what if we equipped our troops with these portable juice boxes?_ That means we can spend less resources training Shinigami Hydration Engineers, who are very susceptible to attacks on the battlefield, and disperse them into different divisions as regular Shinigami. Plus fighters out on the battlefield can hydrate themselves at their own leisure. If they need a drink, they can take care of themselves instantaneously! Who says that we can't learn things from humans and the living world?"

"Kurotsuchi-taichou," I mutter under my breath. His name sends shivers down my spine.

"And we can create special formula drinks, some that have medicines for healing properties, or just something extra that can boost performance while in battle! Once we get production started in the development lab, you'll help Shinigami for future generations! Don't you think that's a great idea, Rukia-sama?" Hanatarou beams at me. He looks like a child opening a present with a great innocence and excitement to match.

His giddy mood is infectious and gets me to smile. I'm tired of thinking about the injustices of the world, about bullies and broken rules. I scoot off of my chair to sit on the ground next to Hanatarou, grabbing the toast and shoving a corner hungrily into my mouth. I even lean back a little, gazing up onto the blank ceiling I've gotten so accustomed to in the past days. "They should call it Reaper-ade," I offer to our conversation.

Hanatarou relaxes as well, despite the sounds of Shinigami walking through the hall. No one gives us a second glance or even notices the socialization of a prisoner. Instead, the two of us are glad to have found a friend in each other. He frowns a bit, but only from over-thinking. "I hope they come up with a lot of different flavors."

I smirk, finishing off the slice of toast. "Yes...like strawberry."

* * *

Ichigo drowned out any and all disturbances when he worked on his homework by putting on his noise-reducing headphones and turning the volume on blast. He figured he'll probably go deaf by the age of 50, but Ichigo hoped so just because he figured people don't have anything interesting to say anyway. With his door securely locked, Rukia roamed his room freely, and she chose to spend her time relaxed on his bed, pawing through all his manga, and adding to the noise by asking countless questions, not caring if he could hear her or not.

She doesn't know that after a few songs at a high volume, Ichigo lowered the sound a bit so he could listen to what she said without her knowing. But just because the loud music strained his ears, of course.

Despite having an open manga on her lap and several stacked on the bed next to her, Rukia's eyes darted all over his room, finding the little details about his dwelling that she never noticed before. He had a guitar, but she'd never seen him touch it. He had a few trophies from karate, and Rukia realized he wasn't just a natural at fighting. Ichigo had a television in his room, but he never watched it much. In fact, she even saw the layer of dust covering the screen, and despite the egregious oversight of his dusting chores, Ichigo's room was impeccable in arrangement. Rukia eased back onto his fluffy pillow, obviously these were his favorite and larger in volume than the ones stored in the closet, and his musky smell clouded her brain. She needed to focus on something and quick, before she slipped into some blissful delirium of oak trees and freshly laundered sheets.

"Ichi...go," she mumbled, her eyes closed.

The called glanced at her, a curious eyebrow arched. Rukia looked amazingly relaxed on his bed, a welcomed image as opposed to her nagging or waving a fist at him, and he instantly became jealous.

The Shinigami opened her eyes and propped herself up on her side, the back of her hair a falling mess on her shoulders. "Aren't you fifteen, Ichi-baka?"

"Don't call me that."

Rukia grinned evilly. "I thought you put those things on so you could block me out."

Sighing, Ichigo took off the headphones and put them on their perch on his stereo. He ran a hand through his orange hair to fluff it out while looking at the girl occupying his bed. Rukia looked too comfortable for his tastes. "Stupid can just be so loud when you're mouthing off, Shrimp. And yes, I am fifteen. Did you want to school me on what it was like when dinosaurs roamed the Earth?"

Sticking her tongue out at Ichigo, she shifted her hips so her legs dangled over the side of the bed. Her toes barely skimmed the hardwood floor. "So your name is pretty literal, huh?" Ichigo shrugged, and Rukia continued to prod him, while she still had his attention.

"I wouldn't say that, it means _protector_," he snapped, not liking where the conversation headed.

Rukia giggled. "Are you sure, Ichi-baka? I'm pretty sure it means..."

"Don't you dare say it."

"...something else."

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. "No, you are wrong...as usual. And you can stop calling me stupid now."

"Fine, I have better things to do," replied Rukia, and she turned around, bouncing across the comforter towards the window.

"Like what? Where are you going?" Ichigo stood on his feet, and realizing he was almost chasing after the girl, he straightened himself up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Rukia smiled at him over her shoulder. Her cheeriness meant something was afoot. "I'm hungry. I'm going to get some candy."

"You're going to get fat if you keep eating sweets all the time."

"Then I'll go get some fruits or something healthy."

Ichigo frowned. He knew Rukia wasn't that particular about health foods; in fact, Ichigo was in charge of most of the things she ate anyway. "And how do you expect to do that? You don't have any money."

"I know I don't," replied Rukia. Leaving the window open, she went out on the roof, and then gracefully made her way onto the street. She waved from her distant position below. "But you do!"

Ichigo balled his hands into tight fists as he saw Rukia shake his wallet at him. That little minx!

"Get back here!!" he bellowed, not caring about whether his family or the neighbors could hear him. "Don't you dare spend all of that!"

"Don't worry, Ichi-bakaaaaa! I'm just going to the store to buy some STRAWBERRIES!" she said in a sing-song voice. Turning on her heels, Rukia began to skip down the street towards the closest mart, enjoying the bellowing that echoed through the night after her.


	6. Que Sera Sera

**Day Six**

**que sera sera**

"Afternoon, Rukia," Hanatarou greets. He comes this time with a broom as well as food, and I am expecting him with some new story or updated progress with Twelfth Division's research on the thing called a "juice pack".

"Hello Hanatarou," I reply, taking the tray of food so he has his hands again. Once relieved, he starts sweeping the far corners of my cell, my new home. I notice something funny with his physical stance; he's sweeping with his back towards me and head bent low, intent on gathering all of the dust bunnies cowering in the corner. One can usually pass this off as a Shinigami just going about his duties, but I know Hanatarou, a very simple but straightforward soul. He usually enjoys good conversation and others' opinions about various going-ons.

I know something is bothering Hanatarou.

But I'll let him bring it up when he wants to. I dive into my food, my usual suspicion telling me that either my gvien prestige or Hanatarou's influence is keeping up the quality of my meals, and I'm grateful. If he wants to talk about what's bothering him, then I'll gladly listen.

Minutes pass, and I finish with the main soup dish which consisted of wide rice noodles and delicious stir-fried vegetables, all the while, watching Hanatarou clean my cell with increased vigor. He looks almost like a rusted robot with each stiff and purpose-driven move. Calmly, I finish my drink, place it back on the tray, and wait with my hands folded in my lap. With Ichigo, I like to get a rise out of him and act with the sole purpose to piss him off, but I feel bad testing Hanatarou in the same manner. He is much more pleasant than the orange wonder.

Finally at his breaking point, Hanatarou grips the broom handle with white knuckles. His head whips around towards me, his mouth pressed in a tight line just as stressed as the rest of his stance. "Kuchiki-sama, how can you be so calm about your situation?"

His tone shocks me, but I do not show it. It's strange to see someone else more affected by your grave situation than yourself. I smile at him, which seems to shock him. He's reminding me of Renji, how one-track minded boys can be. "What good would stressing myself over it do?" I surprise myself with the apparent maturity in my voice.

"But you're not doing anything to fight it! Don't you want to fight for your life?"

"Hanatarou, you're a Shinigami. And when you joined the Academy, didn't you pledge to uphold the ways of Soul Society? To protect the peace and enforce justice?" He nods at me. "Do you even know what I am accused of?"

His grip loosens from around the broomstick. The way his eyes avoid mine tell me that he doesn't know the whole story, only things he's heard or pieced together for himself. Hanatarou mumbles through his lips. "I heard that you gave your powers to a human. I understand it's unauthorized use of powers, but a high-tier crime? It seems so unfair."

I look him straight in the eye, making sure he understands what he's rambling about. "I knowingly and willingly transferred my powers to a human, in the midst of a hollow attack, no less. My life was in danger, and I endangered his as well. There is nothing more serious than the potential of harm towards others."

Hanatarou is at a loss for words. He stands still, his eyes cast downwards, maybe still dejected over my fate or possibly ashamed for showing concern for a fellow Shinigami, but I'm grateful for our talks, no matter how serious the content. I am a Kuchiki, and I cannot afford the luxuries of emotions.

"Hana," I say quietly, and he immediately meets my gaze. "Somebody once told me, 'what will be, will be'. You have to do all you can to make sure you are straightforward in your actions, that you stand up for what _should_ be. Then the universe will unfold as it should."

"Is that someone the person who you've given everything for?"

My lips part slightly, unsure how to respond. I never thought of _him _that way. Have I really given him everything? I still wish to give Ichigo a secure future, one free of danger; give him closure over his mother and for himself; give him his life back.

Remember: _que sera, sera._

The resolve settles over my heart, calming it. I can look Hanatarou in the eyes.

"It's only fair that I give him my everything, Hanatarou...because he gave me the same in return."

* * *

"Chad, you're going to be all right buddy!" Ichigo grunted as he jumped out of the way of a flying appendage towards safety.

"Ichi-baka, you need to stop messing around and make use of that meat cleaver of yours! Just go for the mask!" Rukia bellowed back at him. She clutched at Sado's chest, right above where his usually vibrant shirt grew dark with the spreading of blood from a deep laceration. Rukia's fingers fumbled with the fabric, her fingers slowed by the viscous liquid staining her pale skin. Focusing her reiatsu, she began the healing process, and while her hands did the work, Rukia's eyes watched the fight. Ichigo dodged one of the many bodily extensions protruding from the hollow's body, which at firse, resembled a giant triceratops. Its head had several white horns, and it scuttled around the ground on its original four legs, but the total amount had increased since the fight started because every time Ichigo hacked off an attacking leg or tail, two grew in its place. Of course with Ichigo's way of fighting, the hollow now looked like a centipede covered in whip-like noodles...or something.

"Chad! How is Chad?!" Ichigo bellowed over the hellish shrieks of the hollow. It amazed him how it could still move so fast.

"He's fine, just..._Ichigo_!"

Rukia's eyes grew wide when a thick trunk of a leg caught Ichigo's arm and knocked him into the ground. The hollow tried to stomp on him, but the Shinigami Substitute rolled out of the way in time. As worried as she was, Rukia knew she had a duty to keep herself and Sado safe, healing him to the best of her limited abilities. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she didn't realize it, but Rukia's hands started to tremble as she watched the fight unfold. Sado reached up a shaky hand and held hers steady.

"He'll be all right, Kuchiki-san," he managed, but despite Sado's struggles, his voice still came out deeply rich and comforting.

Rukia never heard him talk so much before, and peered down at him with large eyes, the shock of his wound and voice opening the violet orbs. She nodded numbly before concentrating more of her energy on healing his wound. Her eyebrows knitted together, trying to feign anger to mask her apparent worry. "I don't know why he insists on showboating. It's pretty simple: you see a hollow, you cut its mask. And your name! It's not that hard so say 'Sado' instead of sounding like an idiot all the time." Her reiatsu surged, and Sado gripped her hands again to let her know it hurt a bit. Rukia stopped altogether, her frustration getting the best of her. "Don't you ever get worried? He's an idiot. You're an idiot!"

The night's events washed over her as she remembered: the hollow targeted her, and Sado came out of no where to save her, despite learning of his powers only a few days ago. Rukia wanted fresh strawberries, and when Ichigo kept saying she only wanted it because she wanted to piss him off, she stole his wallet and left the house on her own. The guilty memories of her predicament surfaced when Rukia realized that she half-expected to hear Ichigo chasing after her, but when his presence was replaced with the howls of a demon wanting to devour her soul, she realized her expectations put her in danger. It got worse when someone had to save her again, and Sado suffered at the expense it.

But instead of thanking him, all Rukia could do was insult the man.

"How can you call a man an idiot when he's only doing what he loves?" Sado asked her, when her insults simmered down into mumblings.

Quiet, Rukia resumed her healing treatment. At least the bleeding stopped. Something resemblig tears dared to surface in her eyes, but Rukia refused to let such emotions show when Ichigo was close by, and hopefully, almost finished with the hollow. "I can't just stand by him, doing nothing, unable to do anything, while he risks his life for a fate that I cursed him with," she said quietly.

"But you gave him strength," Sado grunted, testing the amount of healing already accomplished, ready to fight alongside his friend again. Rukia eased him down. "You give him strength, you showed him he could accomplish the impossible."

"And what if he dies while doing this? Ichigo's just a kid, and I'm-" Rukia cut herself off, scared of giving herself away. "I'm finding that I'm worrying about him too much."

"My grandfather used to tell me this, whenever he thought I was thinking too much," replied Sado. He closed his eyes, to both access the memory of his abuelo and to conquer the lingering pain. His voice returned breathy and ominiscent. "Que sera sera."

"What-?"

"What will be, will be," he finished. Sado opened his eyes again, and Rukia felt he could read exactly how she was feeling, despite that she didn't exactly know how she was feeling. She only nodded, although her head got light-headed all of a sudden, which she hoped was due to overusing reiatsu. "If you're scared of Ichigo hurting himself, you shouldn't be. He doesn't do anything he can't handle. In fact, Ichigo looks the happiest that he's been in years since I've known him, when he's out there fighting Hollows. Whatever path he chooses, you have to let Ichigo choose himself."

"But he's just a kid, Ichigo-baka. He wouldn't know what's best for him if it smacked him in the face."

"And isn't that what you do, Kuchiki-san?" Sado asked, his one visible eyebrow arching.

"Smack him, yes. Whether he listens or not, is a different story."

"But I assure you when it's important, he will listen. Ichigo is a stand up guy. Trust him, like he trusts you."

Rukia rolled her eyes, then went back to healing him. Newly invigorated, and slightly frustrated with Sado's reasonings, she somehow lost her soft touch and forced the reiatsu into his body. Although her powers were slow and weak, Sado sat up, his chest completely healed, and unable to withstand Rukia's rough approach.

Their attentions turned to the ruckus of the hollow still holding its own against Ichigo. He seemed to breath heavily, but the smile on his face was unmistakable, even in the blur of fighting. It infected Rukia as well, and she watched his strong figure stand against the enemy, Ichigo holding his own. Even though his life was on the line, Ichigo seemed to be incredibly happy and fulfilled by the thrill of battle. It was a way to get out frustration, to contribute to the world, to save and protect one friend at a time. Rukia felt inspired to encourage her own powers to come back so she could fight alongside of him, and, to show him how powerful a fully-trained Shinigami could be.

With one devastating swing with his zanpakuto, Ichigo cleansed the hollow, making it dissipate into the atmosphere. Frowning because the battle ended, Ichigo hurried over to his friends. "Chad, are you okay?"

The tall Mexican mix nodded, a hand pressed along his chest where the wound once resided. Although slightly sore, he felt completely healthy.

"Whew," whistled Ichigo. He turned to Rukia, who didn't meet his gaze. "Thanks for healing him, Shrimp."

"All I wanted were strawberries," she mumbled.

"Huh?"

Rukia tilted her head towards him, her eyes shining with threatening tears. She clenched her fists at her side. "I endangered you two all because I wanted food. I can't let this go on much longer, I need my powers back."

"Well if you didn't steal my wallet and go running off, then that hollow wouldn't have attacked you," Ichigo huffed at her. Although he crossed his arms over his chest, his face softened at the sight of Rukia's distress. "But even if you didn't, then you still would've dragged my ass to go fight the hollow anyway, so I don't see what you're so upset about. It's just business."

"But-"

"Stop acting like a girl, Kuchiki. It's annoying." Ichigo leaned in close and poked her on the forehead. "You gave me these powers to begin with, if you don't remember, you told me a have a duty to uphold, and YOU are the one obsessed with strawberries! But if you can focus on _me _for a second, you'd know that I wanted the powers to fight, I happen to like kicking ass, and...we're a team. Nakama."

The word rung in her ears.

Ichigo smirked at her now. "Get yourself together Stumps, I can't be the only strong one here. You're making me handle everything while you just...stand there and boss me around."

Rukia didn't know whether to cry or slap him across the face. She could only look up at him with large, round eyes. Somehow she knew there was nothing but trust between them. "Ichigo-"

"Don't get mushy on me," he warned her. Ichigo turned to Sado. "You're all right to get home, yeah?"

Sado nodded silently, then looked at Rukia and gave her a silent goodbye as well.

Once Sado started to walk away, Ichigo grabbed Rukia's wrist, pulling her down the street in the opposite direction. She dragged her feet, although she followed the teenager compliantly, her eyes fixated on the back of his bright orange head. "Where are we going?"

"The grocery store."

She gasped at the inclination. "We're not actually trying to buy strawberries this time at night, are we?"

Ichigo stopped walking, but held onto her wrist. He looked back at her, a frown gracing his lips. "After all the shit I went through tonight, with hollows and their regenerating limbs, _you _stealing my wallet, you think we're going home empty-handed?" A smile tugged at Rukia's mouth, but she couldn't tell if Ichigo was joking around or not. She just stood there, frozen in the street, which made Ichigo sigh out of frustration. "Come on Midget, you're not going to fight me on this one. You started this, and we're going to finish it. Now I can drag you all the way to the mart, or you can walk next to me like a good girl."

He leaned forward, smiling at her coyly, causing her to do the same. "Like my friend, my teammate...my partner."

Red blushes crept over both of their faces, and Ichigo turned away. He only began to walk when he heard Rukia's light footsteps next to him. Somehow her presence there, at his side as his equal, felt absolutely right in an unpredictable world.

* * *

**yay update! thank you thank you Alice001, Music-Warrior-Nightsong, and idnh-azuresky for getting me out of my funk! whoooot. i'm on to write sum moar...kthxbai!**


	7. Scars

**sorries - i cursed a lot in this chappy. i dunno why, i was in a swearing mood.**

* * *

**Day Seven**

**scars**

My head hurts. Ever since Hanatarou's visit yesterday, I've been feeling the most fatigued since I've been here. It's not easy for me to hold back the few tears that escape my eyes, and at this point, I've stopped fighting them. I'd probably be bawling right now, if I wasn't so tired.

The truth is, I have been thinking about him since our tense conversation yesterday. Hell, I've probably been thinking about Ichigo for a while now, but his constant presence was so natural during my time in his world, that I didn't have to resort to my memories to get my fill. I do not deny myself the truth.

_I miss Ichigo._

He is an ass, at times, stubborn to a tee. His temper is maddening; it's like talking to freight train speeding off in only one direction. Always yelling, like the volume button in his brain is broken. He's boring, never did anything after school. Scowls, irritatingly prude, stand off-ish, skeptical. He never smiles.

But when he does...

I trail my hands over my eyes, press on my forehead, then run them through my hair, as if purging the images and thoughts from my head. I can't think about Ichigo that way, just because I'd never survive my time in prison. Just like my time in his world, thoughts of that carrot top will only drive me crazy.

I don't know exactly how I feel about him, I just feel. Like Ichigo, he just does.

It's not..._that_...and I definitely don't hate him. It's more like we are two people thrust together in a ruthless, unforgiving, but indiscriminate twist of fate, changing our lives forever.

_Not much of a fucking fairy tale,_ but it's our story, and I wouldn't change it for the world. _No regrets._

I can't help the smile that crosses my face.

That's what we agreed on: no regrets. He does his thing, I do mine; we work together. He scowls, I bark orders; he's tall, I'm short. Unlike him, I don't have anything on me as a memento, but at least I have these memories. Like a scar on my heart, Ichigo impacted my life, I won't deny that, but I also won't let it show. Cherish them, curse them, laugh until the tears come...lie to myself and say that I ruined his life.

He'd probably yell at me if he heard me talking like that anyway.

I laugh darkly, then roll on my side, hoping that sleep will take me quickly. In the least, if anything really is scarred, it's definitely my heart.

* * *

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Ichigo groaned; for some reason, that didn't sound right to him. For the last twenty minutes, Rukia looked at her body as she twirled around, posed, ran her hands through her hair, and just played around in front of the full-length mirror he installed for her after she punched him, saying that it was written in every girl's genetic code that she needed a mirror in her room. He'd never admit it to anyone, but for the last 19 minutes, Ichigo just stared at her from across the room while she did that, completely mesmerized by her actions. The same page of his manga sat open on his lap, but Ichigo struggled to concentrate on it. Every fluttering of fabric, toss of her raven locks, and caressing of her body irritated Ichigo to no end, and his head felt so hot that he'd just erupt like a volcano with a nosebleed any second.

"Tatsuki told me that there are lotions you can use on your scars so they'll disappear over time," Rukia continued on. She marveled at her new favorite purple dress, her latest purchase after an afternoon of shopping with the girls. It was sleeveless, the neckline in front dipped low in a V-shape, lined with stiff ruffles, but her favorite part was how the pleating of the skirt folded itself in perfect sections around her thighs, poofy enough to give off the illusion of hips and light enough to twirl effortlessly around her legs. She paused in her self-absorbed dancing to look at her chest; if only she was as blessed as Inoue in that area, then maybe she'd look more like a girl without having to dress so girly. It was difficult running in dresses, and she preferred the comfort of her Shinigami robes any day. Maybe Rukia would have an easier time getting along with the opposite sex instead of trying to prove herself as an equal within their ranks. Rukia cocked her head to the side once more, and with her eyes lingering on a single spot just below her collarbone, she quickly decided that fighting was more fun.

Rukia gave Ichigo a sideways look and put a hand on her hip, jutting it out like the models did in the magazines. "You're a boy, Stupid Head, you've gotta have at least one scar, right?"

He frowned at her, but quietly nodded. In his head, he wished she'd take her one person fashion show somewhere else...preferably, Mars. Pursing her lips, Rukia turned around so her backside faced the mirror and looked over her shoulder with a shocked look on her face. "Oh my, Kami!"

"What?" Ichigo gritted from between his teeth.

"Is this a space dress?!"

He flinched a bit. How the hell would he know anything about fashion?! "What the fuck is a space dress?"

"Cause my ass...it's outta this world!"

Rukia's laughter filled his room, and Ichigo closed his eyes to try to block the infuriatingly melodious sound teasing his brain. In the darkness, he clearly saw Rukia's form, dancing happily in his mind. He didn't notice when she bounded across his room and flopped next to him on the bed. Instinctively, Ichigo tucked his knees into his chest, desperately trying to create further distance between their bodies. He felt the electricity when she slapped his knee. "Come on Grumpy, I'm just joking around. Why are you so moody today?"

He watched her, his mouth only pressed into a straight line, amazed that even dead Shinigami a century-and-a-half old still had the same interest and just as appeased as regular high school girls with shopping. And he silently thanked Inoue and the girls for taking Rukia off his hands for the afternoon, and bringing her back in good spirits. No one ever specified that he'd have to endure shopping with Rukia when he agreed to take up Shinigami duties, and there was no way in hell he'd even try.

"Stuuuuupid..." Rukia sang.

"Yeah, I got some scars," Ichigo huffed back. He instantly regretted his snappy response when Rukia jumped back, but her mood didn't waver. She leaned closer towards him, although keeping the general distance between them.

"Let me see some and tell me how you got them!"

Ichigo perked an eyebrow when he saw her apparent interest, but her gaze remained, fully intent on him. He pointed a long finger at his chin, and upon closer inspection, Rukia could see a long, thin scar that ran vertically to the underside of his jawline. "Karate fight against Tatsuki."

"She won, huh?"

"We don't talk about it." Ichigo reached down to roll up his right pant leg. He had a good-sized scar along his shin, the slightly pink ripple along his pale chicken leg. "I used to play soccer with Karin a few years ago. She accidentally kicked my shin, splitting the plastic guard which scratched me."

"Soccer?" asked Rukia.

He nodded. "It's a sport, with the white and black ball you kick around with your feet. _Sacca_."

"Oh yeah, I know Ichi-baka!" she replied happily. Rukia smiled at him with that annoyingly sweet expression, as if permitting him to continue, but Ichigo let a silence pass over them.

"It's your turn, and I believe that I'm already two up on you, Stumps."

Rukia's smile faded, but at least her mood didn't turn into that like a feral cat. Staying true to their deal, Rukia swung her left leg over the length of the bed, and pointed at a patch of skin that had the tell-tale pink tint of scarred skin with a few raised bumps. "I was running through Rukongai when I tripped on something, sliding along the dirt ground and scraping my entire leg. This is what was left after I healed." She then lifted her left arm, showing him the underside of her forearm. A long scar ran along the length, somewhat jagged and unexpectidedly rigid along her soft skin. "I fell from a tree. I used this arm to brace myself, and the bone popped right out."

Ichigo's eyebrows told her that he was somewhat impressed by her story. Since she was on a roll, without thinking, Rukia pushed aside the right side of her dress neckline, revealing the fleshy area underneath her milky white collarbone marred by a tiny thin scar. She froze once she realized she was almost offering herself to Ichigo, and with much more slower actions, Rukia covered herself once again, a bright red heat washing all over her body. "I, uhm...I got that when I was sparring at the academy. I was pierced with the tip of a zanpakuto."

Ichigo sat silently, enduring the rising temperatures in his cheeks. He kept staring at the intruding purple fabric, remembering the inviting patch of skin, but then averted his eyes to the side, gazing out of the window. He tried to think of other things (nuns, football, Antartica...old lady nuns playing football in Antartica with penguin referees), Rukia's voice barely reaching his brain.

"Ichigo," she repeated. Rukia smiled a bit timidly at him, but it still radiated a comfortable warmth.

He blushed when their eyes met. Rukia's action wasn't too graphic or obscene in any way, but he felt so strange at the moment. In fact, it was what he wasn't feeling that made Ichigo think he was a stranger in his own body. He wasn't embarrassed in the least but...something else. And Rukia kept smiling at him. "What?" he mumbled softly.

"Do you have any more scars? Any more battle wounds, cause I'm all out," she said. Rukia took in an extra long breath.

The silence took over the room, but their eyes never wandered. Rukia felt the weight of his amber eyes piercing her, but she welcomed it. She wasn't about to be the first person to look away, and a smile crossed her face. But she didn't know what to say.

Ichigo reached up to unbutton his uniform shirt. His fingers deftly opened each closure, slowly loosening his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his shoulders and upper chest. His eyes never left Rukia's. Ichigo pulled aside the collar, revealing three parallel gashes on the front of his shoulder. It looked like it pained him to see it. "That bastard gave them to me. When he killed my mother." Ichigo looked out the window while his hand fell away, and Rukia's smile disappeared. She listened to him, obviously understanding it was a difficult subject for him, especially when the other day, Ichigo faced the hollow that took away the pillar of his life. "I blacked out. When I woke up, her body was on top of mine, but it was cold. There was blood everywhere. I didn't realize some of it was my blood until my Dad got me and patched up my shoulder. Shitty job he did, huh?"

"Your Dad loves you, and he's funny. I'm sure he understands your pain, Ichigo."

He shrugged. "Yeah whatever. You know not all scars are physical ones."

Rukia saw the sorrow settle in the once sunny pools of his eyes. She instantly regretted starting their game, being too wrapped up in silly things of a teenager's life like shopping and gossiping, and the icy resolve of a trained Shinigami returned to her. "I'm sorry Ichigo," she whispered and stood on her feet to go into the comfort of her closet.

Ichigo, however, reached out and grabbed her wrist. The heaviness in his eyes seemed to have washed away once his hand touched her. "I have one more," said Ichigo, and he pointed to his chest, in the middle of where his shirt still lay open, presenting the smooth muscles to her. Daring to look down, Rukia swallowed the lump in her throat and her eyes traveled down his toned body, her heart suspiciously pounding against her ribs. In the middle of his chest sat a thick, protruding scar only two inches long. Her lips parted, the foreign mark calling out to Rukia.

"You see one night, this crazy bitch came into my house and said that if I wanted to save my family, I had to shove a big ass sword into my chest. I thought I've been dreaming since that night, but I see this scar, and I know it's real."

Ichigo let go of her hand, but Rukia reached out and ran her fingers along the line, making Ichigo shiver under her touch. Her eyes finally connected with his. "I can heal that if you want."

He shook his head, taking her fingers in his hand firmly. "No. This one is my favorite."

Rukia stared at him with serious eyes. She needed to know. "No regrets?"

"None," he replied flatly before getting up from his bed and passing her, moving the length of the room in a few easy strides. Ichigo's fingers closed his shirt while his back was turned to her, and he looked over his shoulder with the hint of a grin playing on his face. "And I like the dress, Stumps. We should go out so you can show it off."

Her head slightly buzzing, Rukia just nodded and smiled back at him. Instead of following him, she stepped into the closet so she could change, lay down to compose herself, and admire her dress while thinking of places she could make Ichigo take her.

* * *

**A/N: Rukia's outfit inspired by Bleach art from the 2008 calendar. and i was looking up whether they say "football" or "soccer" in Japan...and a website told me they say "sacca", which i thought was the worst attempt at phonetic spelling turned fact. yeaaah...**


	8. Sing a Song of Sixpence

**Day Eight**

**sing a song of sixpence**

"I'm sorry for the way I acted the other day, Rukia-sama."

I'm sitting in my reliable chair with the ornate back, facing the back wall of my cell, when I hear the familiar voice greet me. He's exactly on time according to my internal clock. I hear the lock click and the barred door swings open, his timid footsteps nearing my seat. I look at his approach on my left, but I can't smile at Hanatarou just yet. "All is well as long as you refer to me as Rukia."

Hanatarou has a blank look on his face, so I smile first. He blinks, then the smile and relief of forgiveness washes over him. He cheerfully offers me the tray of food before leaving to retrieve his broom. I don't understand why his assignments require him to clean the cells so often, since there isn't much to begin with anyway, but I don't question it. I'm glad I get daily interactions, and today, it seems like Hanatarou took extra efforts to make sure I forgive him.

"Ice cream?" I ask, an eyebrow perking up inquisitively.

The deviousness in his smile is unmistakable. I smirk back at him, secretly wondering if our simple conversations are enough to corrupt him. Exactly how evil am I?

"It wasn't that difficult to obtain it, Rukia," he said, as if reading my thoughts. Hanatarou casually turned his broom upside down to reach the high corners of the cell. "Unohana-taichou threw a party for us, just to increase our morale around the Division. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Appreciate it? I appreciate _you_, Hanatarou," I reply with a smile. I haven't even given the dessert a second look. "Thank you for being a friend when...I feel like I have none."

He frowns as he lowers the broom, leaning upon the bamboo handle. "Don't speak like that. You look so gloomy and sad."

"I can't help it sometimes," I mumble quietly. Looking down, a pool of liquid begins to form around the base of the ice cream scoop, so I lower my spoon and begin to eat it, so Hanatarou's efforts don't melt away. It tastes delicious, like the dessert I remember from the human world.

"You don't seem that upset when you tell me all of your wonderful stories," Hanatarou says. He gives me an encouraging smile, even though his eyelids droop with its own expression of gloominess. "I enjoy hearing them, in fact, I look forward to my duties knowing that I'll get to speak with you. If I may be bold, you're a lot different than I expected you would be."

I laugh, somewhat louder than I expected it to come out. The sound is foreign to my ears. When is the last time I laughed anyway?

"And exactly how did you expect me to be?" I ask. It almost irks me that someone has preconceived notions about me, even if it's just Hanatarou.

The boy shrugs. "I thought you'd be more stuck-up, incapable of feeling..." Hanatarou looks like he wants to continue, but he stays quiet, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"And?"

There is no mistaking the look in his eyes. It's almost reminiscent of pity, perhaps more sorrowful. But Hanatarou's eyes pierce into mine, making me colder than the dessert in my hands. "I never knew someone could hurt so much, Rukia-sama."

I find no rest in the silence that falls over my cell. Hanatarou opens his mouth again, and I don't want him to regret what he said because it's true and it's too late. I've already shut down.

I quickly finish the rest of the ice cream, which isn't a feat since most of it has melted from me gripping the bowl tightly. I put the dish down, and when I look up, I realize I'm smiling back at Hanatarou. The proper, noble-side of me surfaces, the side of me he first expected to see when he met me, and I can't do much to push it away. It's the mask that I wear, when I come dangerously close to remembering.

"I understand, Hanatarou," I say blankly. My calm response seems to appease him, so I continue my charade. "But I assure you that I've had fun times as well. The days I spent in the human world...I'd never trade them for anything. No regrets."

Hanatarou's eyes are darker, making the bags under them more pronounced than before. "They're going to kill you, Rukia."

"Sitting on death row is not the time to be thinking of one's mortality," I reply coolly. Focusing on morbid and depressing thoughts is not how I want to end my days. I want to focus on the sun, how it possibly kick started life. I love night better, and at least the window in my cell points to the sky, allowing me to count the bright stars I've always adored. I'm trying to think about my favorite songs. The thing I miss most about the human world is music, the emotions it evokes, and the unpredictable rhythms that get ingrained in your body until you can recall the melody by heart.

My companion is unusually quiet. When I look at him, his eyes divert away, the tell-tale signs that Hanatarou had been watching me, and I smile at him. "Hanatarou," I say firmly. He returns my gaze, focused on what I am about to say. "Sometimes people engage in what you may see as suffering, but that's far from the case when that person faces an obstacle head-on. Remember everything that I told you, because it's what I understand as what's important in life. Don't ever forget who you are, and never back down from something you believe in."

My eyes find the ground when I think about Ichigo. If that idiot can put himself in harm's way, then so can I. Time for remorse can come later.

* * *

_"Shooting myself in the head sounds good. Maybe I can cut my own head off with my zanpakuto. No, I wouldn't die fast enough. What if I just ran out of here screaming? Then the Midget will pull me back here by my ears,"_ thought Ichigo, who slouched in a dark corner, by himself, glaring at anyone who dared approach him. Despite his deep set frown and smashed together eyebrows, Ichigo still saw Rukia across the long room. She looked radiant under the multi-colored lights, a smile plastered on her face, and dancing around in her new purple dress.

_"She can have the fun for the both of us,"_ he thought darkly.

Ichigo took up one table along the length of a long booth that ran down one side of a narrow bar. Ten feet across from him sat the kitchen opening where the cafe sold an assortment of light foods and their famous bubble tea, which Ichigo ordered two for himself and Rukia, but she was too busy being amused at the front of the cafe. Hers sat at the table by itself, just like Ichigo. He looked down the length of the booth. There were other solitary guys sitting at their respective tables as well, but Ichigo noticed one huge difference between himself and them. They enjoyed the cafe. They sat with happy-go-lucky grins on their faces, watching their significant others all of whom congregated towards the front of the room where Rukia stood, and sipped on their bubble teas as if there was nothing better in the world.

"I'd rather face a hundred hollows at the same time then have to come back here," Ichigo muttered to himself.

In her glee and excitement of the night, Rukia turned around to catch Ichigo's eye. When their gazes met, she beamed at him, waving an enthusiastic hand back at him. Ichigo coolly nodded at her, and she turned around to continue dancing or whatever the assortment of girls were doing together. "I _hate _it," he thought with all of his resolve.

Karaoke bars.

What sadistic mind thought of taking horrible, off-key singing public? That same person, who had no regard for humanity, knew girls flocked to the novelty of pretending to be their favorite pop star, holding onto the microphone, and reading along to the words of songs they already knew by heart. Yes, Ichigo hated it with a passion. His ears ached, his back hurt from slouching so low in his seat so none of his classmates might possibly catch him, his teeth throbbed from chewing the round tapioca pearls until he grounded them into powder.

But at least Rukia was having fun.

From what he could see, the raven-haired girl loved dancing to the pulsating music, her body mixing with those around her, and the folds of her precious dress washing around her slender legs. Not that Ichigo was looking at her legs anyway.

_"Ass is out of this world, huh?" _he thought with a smirk. That dress was the reason Ichigo found himself in his current predicament. He figured Rukia would choose to go to her favorite ice cream shop and request a double scoop for herself, but Tatsuki, his oldest and _supposed _friend, suggested that Ichigo took her to check out the new boba tea cafe. She never mentioned anything about karaoke, and Ichigo guessed that Soul Society had no such thing because Rukia kept asking questions about what the people standing by the equipment were doing. He should have known Rukia would be interested in karaoke because when he described it as "torture", her interest perked up.

Ichigo straightened up when he watched Rukia take the microphone and ascend on the stage, her pale skin taking in all of the different colors illuminating her from above. He heard several hoots and hollering from random guys that Ichigo couldn't exactly pinpoint who said what, but he tried to single out the moron who dared to call her a "fox".

Suddenly, Rukia started to sing, and Ichigo's eyes darted to the front of the cafe. Their eyes met, and she waved at him again, before her eyes returned to the words moving on the screen. _"Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe," _she sang in English.

Ichigo recognized the classic song, but he wondered if Rukia knew what she was singing, or even how famous the originators were. And those wonders continued as he watched the raven-haired girl sing, a smile pulling at each corner of her pink lips, her eyes illuminated by the ever-changing lights, and her voice chilling him like he never thought possible. Ichigo suddenly felt possessed and strange; he never knew Rukia had such a big voice for a small body, although she yelled at him quite often. The song ended almost too fast since it began, and the karaoke bar erupted in cheers, mostly fueled by deep male voices. Rukia bowed gracefully before passing the torch and handing the next person the microphone. Rukia beamed back at Ichigo, but remained in the crowd by the stage.

"Hey, bring that last girl back!" yelled a male patron, who stood rather close to Ichigo.

"Yeah, encore!" chimed in another.

"She can sing to me allll night!"

Ichigo's eye twitched. This was why he hated people and socializing. Ichigo certainly didn't want to expose Rukia to such brass and offensive young males in the common Japanese population, or any other young men at that. Suddenly, instead of the blinding anger that surged through him, another feeling electrified his body. It was almost carnal, in the sense that Ichigo wanted to possess Rukia, and make sure the others knew that he already claimed her as his guest from across the universe. Rukia was too innocent and naive, and it was his duty as her host to protect her from the downsides of the human world, such as male hormones.

He made up his mind. Ichigo stood up from his table rigidly, making his way down the aisle towards his friend, glaring at every male in the bar, silently challenging them to watch while he moved. Once he reached a close proximity to Rukia, his eyes fixated upon her, the caramel pools boiling.

Rukia felt a heavy presence behind her, and Ichigo's raging reiatsu. She could tell something pissed him off, and she didn't want to go because she was having so much fun. Turning around with one of her sweetest smiles, Rukia's gaze slammed into Ichigo's burning stare. Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity, but she smiled on anyway. "Hey Ichigo, do you want to sing a duet with me?" she asked in her proper human voice.

Ichigo frowned, but put his hand on her upper arm. They both felt a blushing heat rise, as he hadn't touched her like that before. His grip was firm, but tender at the same time. "Let's get out of here," he replied gruffly.

"But why? I only got to sing one song, and I didn't even get to pick it!"

Ichigo's eyes flickered towards the length of the bar, and he could see several pairs of eyes on them. Nosy perverts. "Come on, I just want to get out of here," Ichigo repeated. While he didn't sound too demanding, Rukia could sense the agitation in his voice. She tried to barter with him one more time by frowning herself, but Ichigo put his other hand up on her shoulder. "Please, let's go. I'll let you borrow my mp3 player and you can sing anytime you want!"

"Only when your family isn't home," Rukia pouted. "If you take me to get ice cream, then we can go."

"Deal," Ichigo quickly agreed. Before she could argue with him again, he slipped an arm around Rukia's shoulders, firmly ushering the girl out of the karaoke bar. Ichigo looked over his shoulder, shooting the male patrons an evil parting glare. They pretended to watch their own girlfriends who cheered on the current aspiring singer, not daring to give Rukia a second look.

Walking out into the open night, Rukia felt a protection from the chilly air under Ichigo's arm. It was strange to walk to close to him, and she sneaked a peek at his face while they hurried away from the cafe. Ichigo's stare kept his attention away from her, while Rukia got a good look at the scar under his strong jawline. They walked in silence for a few minutes, and when they were sufficiently away from the business of the downtown area, Rukia cleared her throat.

"Uhm, Ichigo," she said. Finally looking down, Ichigo blushed as he removed his arm that draped across Rukia. She shivered for a moment, instantly missing his warmth, but she didn't complain. They kept walking, this time stiffly and awkward, and when Rukia couldn't take the silence anymore, she stopped to face her companion.

"What?" he asked defensively.

She didn't know where such modesty came from someone she regularly watched fight with brash strength and ferocity, but Rukia smiled when she realized how much Ichigo must have suffered to take her out tonight. He really hated karaoke bars. Rukia put her hands on her hips, and Ichigo scowled, as if bracing himself for the inevitable fight. "Thank you."

Ichigo didn't hide his surprise. His expression softened. "What?" he repeated again, sounding like a broken record.

Laughing quietly, Rukia smiled to further show her gratitude. "Thank you for taking me out tonight. I had a lot of fun."

"Ah," was his only reply. Ichigo secretly played with tiny lint particles in the deepest corners of his pockets, struggling for a response. He wasn't about to offer to take Rukia there again; he couldn't endure that kind of torture. Finally, Ichigo remembered what normal, well-mannered people would say. "You're welcome...Stumps."

Rukia may have looked radiantly content, but he couldn't resist the jab. His ears hurt, after all.

Her lips scrunched into a pout, but Rukia remained silent. She narrowed her eyes menacingly at Ichigo and continued their walk home. Feeling a bit tired, Rukia figured she would tease him about being jealous later.

* * *

**A/N: inspired by Anthony Bourdain's distaste for karaoke. Rukia sang "Across the Universe" by The Beatles. thanks for all the reviews and alerting! i luff you all!**


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